Forbidden Fantasy
by St. Minority
Summary: Wonka needs a break. Charlie knows just what to do to get the chocolatier's mind elsewhere. Little twist at the end. Charlie's narration


Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are not my property but that of the estate of R. Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore and Johnny Depp

Characters used fromBurton's 2005 film "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory"

A/N: All reviews welcome! If you take the time to read, please take a second to review. I appreciate it lots.

Summary: Wonka needs a break. Charlie knows just what to do to get the chocolatier's mind elsewhere. Little twist at the end. Charlie's narration. And Charlie is between the ages of 16-19 here. One-shot.

* * *

I enter the doors quietly; not wanting to make my presence an over-the-top occasion, as he generally does. Boy, does he. I spot him at his usual desk, in his usual chair, doing the usual work. He is in deep concentration. He does not even know I'm here. 

I could stare at him all day. Willy Wonka, the most beautiful man that ever walked the earth. He is the face behind the famous candy that makes it all more……sexy. Quiet. Keep quiet. I always forget. He's still new to me doing things to him. I'm not supposed to talk about it. That's fine with me. I'll keep to his wishes. After all, he's given me everything I've ever wanted; I can keep mute on the subject.

I stand beside him and continue to stare. I want him. Immediately. I need to tell him so.

"Take a break," I say easily.

His simple reply is, "I can't afford one."

Oh no. This is me you are talking to. The boy you taught to go after what he wants. That is what I am going to do. You're playing on my court now, Willy Wonka.

A plain response is needed, so I tell him, "Sure you can. I'll make it worth while."

I take his hand and pull him to his feet. He seems unsure, he always does, but he does not protest. When I press my lips to his for a strong kiss, he squeals with delight. I swear his chocolate has done something to me. In the past, I would have never asserted myself like this. I was a carefree, get-what-I-get little boy when my family was poor. Now, I'm going after what I want to have, and it so happens to be a man; my mentor.

With lips still holding together, I drag him and myself over to the nearest wall. Only then do we part mouths as I shove him against the solid surface. He lets out a teeny noise and looks at the floor. He's so shy! And modest! All this clothing, Willy. What am I ever going to do with you?

In order to begin satisfying my yearning, and overcome the fabric shield, I put my mouth wherever I see skin: his progressively flushing cheeks, his forehead, his soft eyelids that cover downcast lilac eyes, his nose, and his deliciously smooth neck. He is hot, I can feel it. His fingers are entwined with mine, and I raise them up above his head. He expels several gentle, erotic sounds, but he doesn't like to voice words. When he does say something, it knocks the breath out of me almost every single time.

"Charlie……I……." he whispers, sounding winded. Oh good! At least I know my actions have the same effect as his words do to me. They're two simple words, but they are the world at the moment.

The way his body moves and twists ever so slightly against mine is incredible. I press a certain responding part of myself to him to make him aware. He whimpers when he feels it. He knows what he's gotten himself into. And oh look! I can feel him too! That fact makes me twice as proud.

I grind against him for a minute or so before flipping him forcefully to face the wall. He is sandwiched between me and the partition. I keep his hands above his head. He grasps mine tightly as I push my hips to his round, perfect backside. I move and thrust as if I were actually _inside_ of his body, as if entering it and removing myself from him each time. His eyes are closed tightly, and he breathes heavily. What wondrous sounds, no one can imagine!

The barrier of clothing has diminished to a seemingly non-existent problem. It doesn't matter if we're naked or not right now. I'm so close to him that it sort of seems like our fully-covered bodies are nude. He doesn't seem to mind the clothes either. I can tell by the way he trembles and moans. Oh, his moans! They are the best sounds in the world.

I rest my head at the nape of his neck. Soon, I resituate it so that he can hear my voice in his ear. I whisper and breathe words to him that surprise me at how vulgar and inappropriate they are. He appreciates them, however, because he's shivering and moaning more frequently. I can hear him reply with gasps, saying, "Yes….uhnn…..yes….." I pretend that I am shoving myself into him continually and relentlessly, and I act it out the best I can. I'm after the release I sought out in the first place. He's being pounded against the wall, it must hurt some, but he doesn't complain. He enjoys it, I know.

At last, what seems like thirty minutes later, I climax with a noisy groan. But wait, I hear him emit a loud whine, and his hips buck forward as he reaches an orgasm as well.

My heavy breath makes contact with the back of his neck, blowing his brown hair about somewhat. He's panting too. I let go of his hands, and he turns languidly around to face me. His violet eyes meet mine, and they convey a myriad of emotions. I want to look into them forever, but my legs suddenly give out. He catches me, enveloping me, and brings me up to rest on him. He giggles, and it sounds like a happy child's laughter. I love his laugh. I could listen to it all day. I could remain wrapped up in his arms all day too. Boy, could I.

"Charlie?"

"Yes?"

"Charlie?"

"Yes Willy?"

* * *

"Charlie!" 

I wake with a start and sit up in my bed. I look at the person sitting on the edge beside me. Those beautiful violet eyes meet mine.

"Are you alright? You're sleeping quite late."

He appears a tad concerned, as if I'm sick. And perhaps I am, considering the dream I just had about him and myself.

"No," I answer. My voice sounds a bit exhausted. "I mean, yes, I'm fine." I'm shaking a little.

"You're sweating. And you're quite pale. You sure you don't have a fever?"

He places a gloved palm to my forehead and then gently wipes my perspiring face with his handkerchief. I will myself to remain calm at the touch. It appears my body did indeed respond to the dream. I can feel the stickiness within my pants. And I try not to blush from that-

"Charlie?"

Apparently he said something. I guess I got lost in other thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Do you want to take the day off?"

"No, that's alright. I'd love to work."

His smile is unbelievable. It is the embodiment of perfection; Willy Wonka is the embodiment of perfection. "Wonderful. Let's get a move on then. I'll be back in about thirty minutes, kay?"

"Kay." He has _no _idea. _No _idea whatsoever that I had dream-sex with him. It certainly hasn't been the first time either, yet in every single one, I can never get him naked.

He leaves, and I watch his hips sway ever so slightly from side to side as he walks out. I rub my face and sigh.

"Maybe in my next dream, I _can_ get his clothes _off._"

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A/N: Please review. Thank you. 


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